


Are we ever going to talk about this?

by Psychopersonified



Series: Are we ever going to talk about this? [1]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Dating since forever, Fluff with subplot, M/M, Protective James Bond, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, clueless, how they got together, trying to be lowkey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23493868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Psychopersonified/pseuds/Psychopersonified
Summary: A how they got together story. Serves also as backstory to some of the events and characters mentioned in the KIdnapped!Q story. This takes place prior to that.Mostly an excuse to put them in a bed together.------“Marry me.” Bond proposes flippantly.“Pfft! With this as dowry I could have the pick of you lot. 003 is front runner at the moment. You’ll have to try harder.” Q smiles at him sweetly.-------
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Series: Are we ever going to talk about this? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1763425
Comments: 28
Kudos: 488





	Are we ever going to talk about this?

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta’ed. Not Brit-picked. Forgive me.

**Day 1 - Thursday**

Thursday at a disused quarry turned test range about two hours outside London. SIS has the place cordoned off for the weekend for the recruit selection process and field equipment tests.

Eve and Agent 009 will be coordinating the recruit selection process along with other speciality trainers and crew. Q and his minions from Q-Branch, Nish and Jamila are taking the opportunity while they have the perfect location booked to test out the latest and greatest field equipment. Tanner is here as well to oversee the whole process.

Agent 009 is a natural leader and the ideal choice for this exercise. His calm gentlemanly manner belies the deadly trained assassin underneath. He’s an excellent communicator and will make a fantastic diplomat one day when he retires. There’s even talk of 009 one day taking over from M if he makes it that long without getting killed. For now it makes him a superb teacher.

Agent 007 on the other hand, is _not_ a great communicator. And his innovative problem solving methods are not always appreciated at this early stage of selection. However, 009 has requested his help in one or two of the more unconventional aspects of the selection process. He can’t wait.

But mainly he’s been roped into helping Q-Branch with the testing of their equipment. Q tells himself that if the equipment can survive 007, it will survive anyone else in the field. Bond doesn’t mind. It’s like Christmas, having access to all those new toys before the other double-0s, he might even get to sneak one back for his personal use.

Q-Branch as a selection of newly designed suppressor attachments, three quick assembly sniper rifles, an assortment of scopes and a variety of small explosives disguised as everyday items to test.

Aside from that, on the test schedule are two heavily modified Land Rover Defenders (that they drove to the site) and two state of the art fortified caravans designed specifically to function as mobile base stations in remote areas.

The caravans they towed onsite will serve as their accommodation for the senior staff. The recruits however, will have to sleep rough as part of their selection process. 

The ground is muddy from overnight rain as they setup for the long weekend. Q is refusing to leave the range rover, sitting on the tailgate fretting over the poor internet connection. Nish is on the roof of the Defender adjusting the receiver.

“Q, are you ever going to leave the car?” Bond needles.

“Hmm? What?” He’s dressed in his usual fashion - cardigan, anorak and all, with the only concession being the addition of dark green wellies which are still pristine.

“Is he showing withdrawal symptoms already?” Tanner jokes. He was in the second Ranger Rover driven by 009 on the way to the site, and so missed most of Q’s freakout when the mobile coverage started to drop. Bond had front row seats to that event being the driver the first car. 

“Laugh now, we’ll see how the lot of you like sleeping with the recruits when I change your access codes.” Q warns everyone in general. 

“Oh my, someone is grumpy today…“ Eve proclaims. Then to Bond she asks, “Has he been like this the whole way?”

“Just the last hour. Full disclosure, he may have hacked a couple of cell towers to boost signal to this area.” Bond holds both his hands up to indicate that he was not complicit in the matter. 

“Snitch!” Q accuses, then sighs and shuts the laptop with more force than necessary. Not even he can bend radio frequencies to his will when there are no cell towers around. He puts the laptop aside and finally takes a step out of the Range Rover.

His wellies squelch uncomfortably in the muddy ground. Q makes a face; and like a cat who’s decided he wants back in as soon as he’slet out - he goes straight for the caravan and swipes himself in. The others follow after him, curious to see the inside.

It is… _magnificent_. Utilitarian and rugged. All high tech and clean lines- clever cubbies and storage dotted everywhere. Compact but well thought out sleeping areas, amenities in the back. It even has extendable side walls to create a larger space. On one end is an ultra high tech hidden command centre that reveals itself at the press of a button.

“Oh Q, I can genuinely say you’ve outdone yourself on this one,” Eve declares breathlessly.

“Ah…. but I’m not done yet.” He motions for everyone to step back from a section of the floor.

He swipes his palm under the command centre and the floor slides back with a soft hiss to reveal the armoury - fully kitted with rifles, guns and a few less conventional equipment. The compartment is softly backlit by LED lights making it easy to identify each equipment, but also has the effect of making it look like a portal to another world.

It was dreamy. There is collective sigh of desire and awe.

“Marry me.” Bond proposes flippantly.

“Pfft! With this as dowry I could have the pick of you lot. 003 is front runner at the moment. You’ll have to try harder.” Q smiles at him sweetly.

Tanner gives a cutoff chortle. It’s a running game among the Double-0s - **_Fluster the Quartermaster_**. If they win, they weasel a new toy from Q and bragging rights. Lose and it’s the walk of shame out of Q-Branch with tail feathers roasted publicly.

Eve shakes her head and hisses, ”James, do you need cold water for that burn?”

Bond just quirks a corner of his mouth, blue eyes never leaving Q’s. - _Touch’e-_

Eve’s comment is the perfect segue for Q to show off the next feature.

“Speaking of medical attention,” Q takes the two steps towards the small kitchenette and pushes a button above the sink, a drop down drawer packed with medical supplies pop into view. “…fully stocked emergency kit, field medical diagnostics and if needed - refrigerated blood and plasma storage, there’s even a defibrillator.”

Everyone takes a moment more to marvel at this magnificent piece of engineering. After a bit of a walk around in so much as the small space allowed, Tanner offers to bring in the luggage. “Right, so how are we with sleeping arrangements? I’ll bring in the bags.”

“Ah yes. Tanner, you’re with 009 and 007 in the other unit. I suggest 009 take the convertible dinning nook as he’s taller. And the two of you should be comfortable enough in the individual bunks.”

“Moneypenny, Jamila, Nish and myself will be in this one. The ladies can have the bunks. Nish and myself will share top to tail in the dining nook.”

“Great, now that’s sorted. I’ll get moving.” Tanner leaves, followed by Q.

Eve spies the contemplative look on Bond’s face. Never a good sign. “James... _behave_. I know you love nothing more than to pull his pigtails, but seriously, even M is beginning to wonder.”

“Do I? Never noticed.” Bond. Spy Extraordinaire. Man of few words. Eve just smacks him on the arm and leaves.

—

Outside, Bond spots Nish lugging his bag towards the caravan and moves to intercept. He throws an arm around the smaller man and steers him towards the second caravan.

“Nish, just the person I wanted to see,” Bond flashes him a smile. “Seems like it’s your lucky day, you are getting an upgrade.”

Nish doesn’t buy it, he’s dealt with the double-0s enough to know when they’re full of shit. “Stuff it 007, I know what you’re doing,” Nish wiggles out from under Bond’s arm and faces him. 

“Do you?” Bond covers his surprise with a neutral face.

“Hundred pounds.” Nish names the price of loyalty.

Bond lets out a whistle. “That’s steep. Is that how you treat someone trying to do you a favour?” Bond negotiates.

“Nnaahh... I think it’s you who have mistaken who’s doing the favours,” Nish extends a finger and pokes Bond lightly in the chest, taking gamble that the agent won’t rip it out of its socket for being insolent. “Hundred pounds, take it or leave it.”

Bond narrows his blue eyes at him. He doesn’t want to get caught by prolonging the negotiation so he capitulates. He fishes out his wallet and forks over the money whilst looking over his shoulder.

Nish pockets the cash and gives Bond a mock salute. “Nice doing business with you 007. I’m going to tell the boss _you_ told me there was a change of plans. That way he’ll get mad at you, not me. Enjoy your weekend.” Nish disappears into the caravan with a knowing smile.

Bond tries to shake the feeling that he’s just been played. Was he really that obvious? Didn’t they all make a game of trying to fluster Q?

—

They turn in early that night after the introductory barbecue with the recruits and the rest of the crew. Without light from the cities reflecting off clouds, the area got dark very quickly. But the stars more than made up for it.

With Eve and Jamila tucked in their bunks and curtains drawn, Bond an Q were left alone in the work/dining area. The dining booth converted into something resembling a double bed. The space was tight. Nish and Q would have been able to fit in with some semblance of decorum, both of them being smaller and thinner than the average male agent. A muscle bound double-0 agent is going to take up the entire space just by himself.

Bond and Q are in MI6 issued track bottoms. Bond’s eschewed the sweatshirt for a long sleeved white Henley that stretches sinfully across his shoulders. He’s already in bed so to speak, reading the manual on how to operate the caravan’s smorgasboard of features. This is probably the first time Q has seen him open, let alone _read_ a manual that came with the equipment. Time to time he would ask Q for more details about the features, especially the defensive ones.

Q figures its Bond’s way of distracting him from kicking up a fuss about the change in sleeping arrangements - by appealing to his professional pride. He lets it slide this time, if this is what it takes to make Bond read the damned manuals (which might save his life at some point) then its a small price to pay.

Q has on a zippered sweatshirt over his t-shirt and he’s reading emails on his laptop that is perched on the small kitchen counter. Q explains between his reading, “Cameras give you 360 visibility,and there’s a mesh of conductive wires embedded in the skin all around, so once armed, it will deliver an unpleasant jolt to anyone who tries to enter.”

“Impressive.” — was an understatement.

Q couldn’t resist showing off a little, “There’s a biodefense mode as well that should be useful - from sandstorms up to low level radioactive fallout. It won’t work against direct radiation, but will filter out contaminated radioactive particles. Our friends in NATO have ordered a fleet of these, even though we told them it’s still in preproduction.”

It’s times like these that remind Bond exactly how brilliant Q is. The agency tends to think of Q-Branch boffins as caricatures; the quintessential socially awkward scientist trope. Their roles pre-defined as sidekicks to the suave and worldly field agents. While the social awkwardness might be true for some, they are far from sidekicks - more partners with a different but complimentary skillet and their contribution should never be underestimated.

Q shuts the laptop leaving it to charge. The caravan is peppered with USB and charging ports. That’s how you know tech boffins had a hand in itsdesign. His movements are languid and dreamy, the sign of a person winding down for sleep.

He checks the small tablet mounted on the wall, making sure everything is locked and the environmentals are set comfortably. Not that there is much of a security concern, while they do have live ammunition stored securely on premise, there are 30 recruits all former military and law enforcement sleeping in tents outside. Any run of the milll trespasser would be dealt with with extreme prejudice.

Bond scoots over closer to the wall to make room. Glasses off, Q moves to get in, head at Bond’s feet. Bond makes a sound of protest, ”No,no. Get up here. I kick in my sleep, wouldn’t do to give you a black eye.”

Sighing, Q changes position to lie alongside the him, too tired to be bothered about the close proximity. _God_ , the sleeping nook was wonderfully warm - _the man is a furnace_. He’d pre-warmed the entire sleeping area including the covers and pillows. Sleep comes blessedly quick, aided by the warmth.

\----------

**Day 2 - Friday**

Q surfaces gently from a dreamless sleep. Body exquisitely relaxed. It takes him a moment to realise but his entire back from his neck to his hips and even the back of his thighs are wonderfully warm. There is a secure weight across his middle, and his neck is a little damp. He pushes back slowly against the warmth, only to stop when his brain reminds him of the sleeping arrangements last night.

 _You’ve got to be joking_ \- his internal monologue starts. A peek at the window tells him it’s just before dawn, the sky beginning to lighten.He cranes his neck to look to the back of the caravan - the ladies are still blessedly asleep, curtains still drawn.

Q shifts to asses the situation. Bond is spooned right up against him, nose buried in his hair - hence the slightly damp neck. A heavy muscular arm is draped across his stomach holding him close. Q has to suppress a groan. It’s not that its unpleasant, quite the opposite. But this pigtail pulling has gone overboard. Q knows he’s partly to blame.

He shouldn’t have encouraged the behaviour by flirting back, not just with Bond, but with the others as well. He’d thought it was just a harmless running joke part of the banter - but Bond is the king of extra. He never does anything by halves. He’s going to have to talk to Bond before this gets both of them in trouble, or someone ends up in tears.

Q tries to roll out of bed without waking the agent, but the arm around his middle tightens as soon as he starts to move away. _The man is insufferable!_ Q rolls gingerly back to where he was. _And why does he have to smell so good?_ Cold is starting to creep up a leg that has peeked out of the covers and Q pulls it back in. Fifteen minutes, he’s going to give it fifteen minutes more and he’s out.

His phone is thankfully within reach and so are his glasses. He starts scrolling though his phone so he doesn’t fall back to sleep.

Half and hour later, Q is reading security news about a new exploit in Windows systems that has him so engrossed he missed Bond waking up slowly behind him. The first sign he gets from the agent is a sleep rough voice asking for the time - _right in his ear_. Q would be lying if he said the low rumble reverberating from Bond’s chest pressed behind him didn’t send shivers down his body.

“Six-thirty.” Q answers after checking the clock on top corner of this phone.

“Mmm... what’s the agenda for today?” Again half rumbled half whispered. _Christ. It’s like he’s doing this on purpose..._

“Breakfast at 7:30. Then we’re testing the sniper rifles in the morning.” Q answers, his own voice a sleepy whisper when he manages to steady his breath.

He feels Bond yawn indulgently into the back of his head. There is no way the agent hasn’t noticed the position they’re in. _So we’re playing it this way are we? We’re just going to pretend this is normal? …Fine._

Satisfied with his yawn, Bond deigns to move - _slowly_. He withdraws his clingy octopus limbs, making sure to drag the palm of his hand across Q’s stomach as he does. Q pretends to be still engrossed with his phone even when his eyes flutter close at the sensation. Then Bond half crawls, half rolls over Q to get out of bed, and if he makes sure to brush as much of his body against Q’s on his way - Q makes no sign that he notices. Bond makes his way to the back to use the amenities.

Reigning in the temptation to sink further into the covers and drowning himself in the warmth and scent, Q throws the covers off, sits up and exhales. _It’s going to be a LONG weekend._

——

After breakfast Tanner and Nish get in the Range Rover and drive down range to set up targets at different distance intervals starting at 500 meters.

Bond, Q and Jamila stay behind. Bond takes up position crouching behind a wall of sandbags the rifle just peeking over the top. As he’s checking the gun over and adjusting the sights, Q comes over to hand him some earplugs and a pair of protective glasses.

He puts on the safety equipment as Q kneels beside him, setting down a walkie-talkie and a tablet on top of the sandbag wall. When Bond looks over, Q has a pair of high powered binoculars ready in one hand, his prescription glasses perched on top of his head and a stylus stuck behind his ear.

“Ready?” Q grins brightly at him. Clearly looking forward to the test. 

Bond has to stifle a sharp intake of air. The excitement does Q wonders. Bond realises how rarely he gets to see Q outside in natural light; the light makes his eyes seem that much greener, the mop of tousled hair is dark brown and shiny in the sun. Q’s complexion is unsurprisingly so pale it has a translucent quality about it, but the anticipation of doing science! brings colour to his cheeks.

It’s out of Bond’s mouth before he can stop himself, “Q… you’re going need sun protection if you’re going to be out all day.” Bond hastilyreturns to looking through the scope before he can see Q’s reaction.

They spend the rest of the day testing the rifles and suppressor attachments and various other small firearms. Q makes notes of all the combinations and performance parameters while Jamila operates the high speed camera.

-—

In the evening, Bond disappears for an hour before dinner. When he returns he smells of quarry dirt and dust. The look on his face is one of smug mischief.

Q peeks outside. The recruits are in a tizzy, some are arguing among themselves while others are spreading around the campsite searching for something. 009 is sitting under the retractable ‘porch’ of his caravan with Tanner and Eve; discussing the day’s proceedings most likely. He looks unconcerned.

Bond goes to retrieve some water from the tap and gulps it down. “What did you do? And will someone end up dead?”

“What makes you think I did anything?” Bond deflects. But his self-satisfied stretch says otherwise. His sweatshirt rides up when he stretches, exposing the muscles of his abs and the cut of his hips. Q is tucked into corner of the dining nook studying footage from the day’s tests and is eye level to Bond’s peacocking display.

He refuses to look away because that would constitute a ‘win’ for Bond. That’s the premise of their game, _Fluster the the Quartermaster_ \- at least it started out that way, but has now devolved into an outrageously provocative game of chicken that no one knows how to stop.

Bond braces a hand on the dining table, another on the backrest of the seat, effectively boxing Q in. He leans in close enough to kiss and whispers, “I’ll go wash up. You should put something on that sunburn,” and he’s gone. Sauntering away to the back for a shower.

Q maintains composure long enough to hear the shower door close before dropping his head into his hands on the table.

——

Outside, Nish and Jamila are cleaning the weapons they’d tested that day. Jamila pokes Nish with a cleaning brush, “How much did you weasel out of him?”

“Oi, those are serious accusations. Don’t go poking people if you don’t have proof.”

“When the boss finds out, you’re cleaning oil pans for a month.” Jamila warns him.

“Worth it. Anything interesting happen?”

Jamila smiles knowingly.

“Oh my god, something did! What was it??”

Jamila looks around to make sure no one is within earshot and then confides, “I woke up in the middle of the night thinking to get a drink…. guess who I saw using the boss like a giant teddy bear? It was disgustingly sweet. I think I have cavities now.

Nish makes an unintelligible squealing sound in the back of his throat.

——

Dinner was entertaining. A large part because they got to watch the new recruits start to buckle under the pressure. The day's selection had gone well, but a wrench had been thrown into the works. Three cases containing three days worth of MREs (Meals Ready to Eat - military rations) had gone missing. Along with it much of the solid fuel bricks for making fire. What this means is that they had only less than half the rations needed to feed all the recruits for the weekend and not enough fuel to sustain a fire through the rest of the nights for warmth.

Oh, the recruits guessed it was part of the test, but you’d be surprised how quickly things can devolve with food depravation and the threat of hypothermia. The recruits had sent over an emissary to voice their displeasure - 009 had promptly told them to _suck it up_ and deal with it; and make sure the last case doesn’t grow legs and go missing. 007 was practically dizzy with delight.

The army recruits were faring the best the moment. They were used to roughing it. It was interesting to observe the recruits’ training and experience come into play. They’ve organised themselves since the shock discovery a couple of hours before. A group was on asset (the case) guard duty, another was planning out inventory - calculating how much to ration for the next few days.

In contrast, the senior staff sat around and relaxed a short distance away. Their rations were in perfect order, securely stowed away in the armed caravans.

They sat around the fire, stargazing and trading stories; taking the rare opportunity to socialise outside of HQ. Bond they found, had mellowed somewhat over the years - though no one dared say it to his face. Gone was the cocky lone wolf attitude he carried around in his younger years - when he thought no one save maybe M was worth his time or patience.

Make no mistake he was still rebellious and insufferably stubborn if you didn’t approach him the right way - but more often than not, he now displayed an aura of maturity and conscientiousness more fitting of a senior double-0 agent.

At one point Bond has to smile when he overhears Eve and Q next to him. Eve was fussing over Q, trying to apply aloe gel on a spot of sunburn across the bridge of his nose and the top of his cheekbones.

“Eve, please stop.” Q whines as he ducks to avoid her fingers.“It makes it too slippery for my specs to stay on.”

“Q, it’s dark. There is nothing much to see anyway. Put this on so you don’t start peeling too badly. Didn’t you bring sunscreen?”

——--------

**Day 3 - Saturday**

The day saw them testing the pair of modified Range Rover Defenders that they drove onsite. The aim was to verify that their off-roading capabilities weren’t too compromised due to the extra weight from the modifications.

Tanner was a surprising asset in this, a closet off-roading enthusiast - he was even better than 007 when it came to the mechanics and tactics to get the most out of the vehicles. Bond even learned a thing or two from him and they spent all day comparing notes.

As for the the three boffins, it was the most uncomfortable day by far, being jostled around in the SUV. The air suspensions were a fantastic improvement but it didn’t stop Jamila developing carsickness partway through and she refused to sit inside any longer. Nish dropped out soon after. The both if them volunteering to operate the monitoring equipment from the outside.

Bond on the other hand, was in a _fantastic_ mood and not just from the exhilaration of being allowed to hoon around the track without the threat of repercussions.

He’d woken up much like the day before, wrapped around Q. Only this time they were snuggled chest to chest, with Q’s nose tucked under his jaw and snoring softly. To top it off, somehow in the middle of the night, Q’s hand had found its way under Bond’s henley and was pressed against his chest. They woke up that way, and again neither one said a thing.

For the final test of the day, Tanner and 007 each drove a vehicle and they tore up the test track chasing each other for ‘added realism’ as Bond would put it later.

Regretfully Q decided not to disembark for the final test, opting instead to monitor the car’s performance and diagnostics _in situ_. Being inside a three ton SUV while it catches air is a terrifying feeling.And who knew it was possible to drift a SUV with the traction control still on.

He finally pulled the plug on the test when 007 nearly rolled the Range Rover whilst executing an evasive manoeuvre at 90km/hr. On his tablet, Q watched as the stability control system flash in warning, the SUV tethering on two wheels before Bond’s quick reflexes saves them.

This was the first time Q had experienced 007 in his element first hand, not through cameras or post-mission recordings, but _live and in person_. It was fucking terrifying. The man was every bit as reckless as rumours suggest and this was a ‘controlled’ test.

When Q regroups withNish and Jamila, they share a look. They already know that they are going to have to redistribute the weight more and beef up the stability control. A roll recovery system wouldn’t hurt either. That is another few hundred hours of R&D they have to put in.

 _Keeping_ _that bastard 007 alive in the field is why -they- can’t have a life…_

——

Dinner was again a pleasant affair. Bond and Tanner were still coming down from the day's adrenaline high, the two of them watching video recaps on the monitors. 009 joins them at some point and the three of them end up discussing the footage and tactics animatedly. 

The evening somehow segues in to a mini-competition after dinner.

The new rifles they tested were designed for quick assembly and disassembly. Bond had tried them out the day earlier and his time was the official benchmark. 009 good naturedly contested he could do better, and so naturally everyone ended up trying to set a better time.

Q justifies that they weren’t screwing around with firearms (albeit unloaded) by writing down the results in his report - it was benchmarking for science!

In the end, both 007 and 009 were wrong. It was Q who set the fastest time, with Eve coming in second. Though Q was disqualified for having had prior practice, he did design the things after all.

Bond didn’t mind, as he got to watch Q’s hands deftly handle the metal parts, confidently sliding and clicking pieces into place in quick succession and then expertly taking them apart again. Q could even do it blindfolded so to speak; proving it when Tanner dared him to do it without his glasses.

However, he found himself blindsided by how _quickly_ and _dangerously_ heat started to pool in his lower regions as a result of Q’s display of competance. Bond filed that discovery under ‘to be explored’.

Aside from the surprising self discovery, Bond learned something else watching Q eat three days in a row. Q is capable of intense focus at a moment’s notice; either diving elbow deep into data or wading neck high into a technical discussion. This means he isfrequently distracted from his meals and so does not finish them. It’s worse if the meal requires two hands to operate cutlery, making it too much effort.

However, if you cut up his meals into bite sized portions - he’s more than likely finish it by snacking. So Bond makes Q a plate everything bite sized and is inordinately satisfied when Q finishes most of it.

—

Later that night Eve spots Bond shaving in the tiny bathroom, an unexpected reprisal of Macau. He’s sporting a three day beard and it is beginning to get rather scratchy.

She crosses her arms and shakes her head at him while leaning against the doorframe. “Going somewhere? Or does the Quartermaster have delicate skin?” She teases him knowingly.

He doesn’t reply, but slowly lifts a hand and flicks shaving cream at her. She dodges it. Eve then leans in and makes eye contact with him through the mirror, “Don’t start something if you can’t see it through.”

—

When he’s done with his night ablutions, he finds Q sitting crossed legged in the chair facing the command centre. Q’s glasses are again off and he has one hand massaging the bridge of his nose.

“Headache?”

“Hmm...” Q acknowledges without opening his eyes.

“Hope I’m not the cause.” Bond prods playfully.

Q chuckles at the attempt. “No. Just got off the phone with R. She says there’s been unusual activity in the personnel database. Someone in HR is going though Q-Branch personnel files. Might just be an automated update. But she wants to confirm anyway.You know how it is, can’t be too careful.”

“I approve.”

“You would.” Q smiles fondly.

Bond gets into bed and scoots over to his side. Q follows but takes his tablet along with him. He’s wants to finish reading that article on the Windows exploit. The initial discomfort of being in close quarters with the agent having melted away, Q found his presence unobtrusive and comfortably pleasant.

Bond enquires about the article and Q explains the exploit best he can in without getting too technical. To his surprise, Bond manages to follow the concept without difficulty.

“Your file mentions that you once hacked into M’s account.”

“Does it?” Bond knows full well it does. “I wouldn’t call it hacking. It was.. an educated guess - her password I mean. Don’t you young ones call it social engineering these days?”

Q turns to look at him incredulous.

”Don’t look so surprised.” Bond takes mock offence and settles more comfortably into his pillow.

“What is social engineering but the use of deception to manipulate individuals to divulging confidential information? It’s the first thing they teach in super secret spy school.” Bond continues, stifling a yawn - the excitement of the day now completely drained out of his system and Q’s presence a calming balm on his usually too alert senses. He doesn’t quite hear Q’s reply, having dropped off soon after.

Half an hour later, he’s awakened by a hand shaking shoulder. He cracks open an eye. Q is looking down at him. “What is it?” He rumbles softly.

Q shoves a tablet at him, ”I think this is _your_ doing?” and dives back under covers as soon as Bond takes the tablet from him.

The tablet is displaying multiple video feeds from the perimeter cameras. Bond marvels at the high quality night vision feed. It makes it incredibly easy to make out the two figures lurking outside. It’s two of the recruits, either coming to investigate the missing MREs or to steal some extra food to supplement their current meagre supplies. _Took them long enough_. Bond wonders if they’re acting on their own or as scouts for the rest of the group.

Either way, time to test the defensive capabilities of the caravan. He pulls up the settings window, glad that he had read the manual and arms the electric skin of the caravan - non-lethal setting of course. Then he sets the alarm to a nice medium loud-ish.

He doesn’t have to wait long. A minute later he hears the shout and thud of someone getting a smarting shock. A second later the alarm blares and perimeter lights flood the area. In the feed, he sees the two figures pick themselves off the ground and scamper back to camp. He cuts the alarm and lights shortly after.

“What’s going on?” Eve calls sleepily from the back.

“Nothing. It’s been taken care of. Go back to sleep.” Bond calls out nearly gleeful.

He turns back to the video feed. The cameras catch 009 standing on the steps of the other caravan in his sleepwear. He can hear the other agent shouting invectives at the retreating figures. Bond indulges in a rare mirth filled grin.

“People better not be dead,” Q’s muffled voice warns from under the covers. For Bond, this day couldn’t be any more perfect.

——---------

**Day 4 - Sunday**

Morning and it is the same routine. Wake up in a compromising position, speak nothing of it and get on with the day. This morning it was Bond nuzzling behind Q’s ear, a hand under the Q’s t-shirt and legs tangled. Whatever _this_ is, is frankly past ridiculous levels and now in uncharted territory.

Q notices something when Bond is in the back getting ready. The bedclothes and even Q’s sleepwear are beginning to smell like them, a comforting mix of both of their scents. _Christ, does it smell good._

—-

Today 007 is helping 009 with testing recruits. They’ll be testing their water confidence. The freezing water and murky pond ramps up the scare factor. Topping it off is fatigue from hunger and sleep depravation among the recruits. Considering the circumstances, even the strongest swimmers could easily become disoriented from low visibility and compromised mentality acuity.

As if it wasn’t enough, 007 is playing antagonist in this exercise. He’s going to be attempting to pull recruits underwater as they swim across the pond to simulate an attempted drowning by an enemy combatant. 007 will be suited in scuba gear to stave off hypothermia but sans air tank as it would give his position away.

It’s the most nerve wrecking event of the weekend. The exercise is dangerous for all involved. A panicking recruit can easily pull 007 under or incapacitate him by accident. Past experience have taught them that at least one recruit will end up half drowned. It’s the test with the highest drop out rate in the program. So Health & Safety is close by with expert safety divers in full scuba gear. Medical also sent a team to be on standby. 

Everyone is watching this one. No distractions for the sake of safety. Two recruits attempt to swim across the pond in their MI6 issues sweats each round. 007 will pick them off one by one and submerge each recruit. He’ll hold them underwater for 5 seconds and let go. The aim isn’t for the recruit to fight back (that training module comes after they’ve made the cut) but to stay calm, reorient and resurface. 

007 is an impressively strong swimmer even for a Navy man. He swims silent circles around unsuspecting recruits with the agility and stealth of a shark, barely breaking the water. Q and his minions can watch everything with their portable sonar equipped underwater drone - one of the equipment they’re testing today. The three are bobbing on a pontoon just outside of the test area.

At one point, 007 picks off a recruit just as he swims past the pontoon. They’re close enough that Q can see the petrified face of the recruit as 007 catches him with an arm around the neck and pulls him gently under. Bond’s face is calm mask. Q dry swallows, is it a bad thing he finds this deadly side of Bond a turn on?

As it turns out, this is the recruit that panics the most. Barely 3 seconds in, and there is violent thrashing underwater. 5 seconds turn into 10 - the safety divers move in.

Another 5 seconds and they both surface, the recruit clinging desperately to Bond. True to his training, 007 executes an expert manoeuvre that allows him to extricate himself from the wildlypanicking man, leaving him to be rescued by the better equipped safety divers. Q lets go of a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

After the incident, 009 stops the test to let the medics go over the recruit and allow 007 to catch his breath. Eve and Q bring Bond his lunch and to reassure themselves he’s alright.

Bond is in high spirits. The incident barely registers with him. As attempts to kill him go, this doesn’t even make the list.

Once he’s caught his breath, 007 and 009 go to check in on the recruit. He’ll be fine, but medical will have him under observation for a few days as he’s swallowed a fair bit of pond water. They shake his hand - he’s out of the program and will be going back to London with some of the others that didn’t make the cut today.

—-

That evening Bond is out cold right after dinner. The agent is understandably exhausted. Attempting to drown thirty strong, experienced, military and law enforcement trained recruits wasn’t easy.

Q waits until everyone else has turned in to get into bed. Bond is sprawled in the sleeping area leaving no room for him. He can either sleep on the floor or attempt to move the agent. He weighs the dangers. He’s heard of the double-0s and their sleep reflexes but have been told it isn’t always ‘on’. It’s usually only when they are in a hostile situation or with people they don’t feel quite safe with - and Q did wake him the night before without any loss of limb.

So he decides to brave it and try to move Bond. Lights out, glasses off - he peels back the covers and sits on the edge of the bed. He pushes Bond slowly to make room. Bond stirs and next thing Q knows, an arm snakes around his back and he is pulled firmly but gently towards the agent. Q has to brace himself with a hand on Bond’s chest to prevent himself from collapsing completely on top of the other man. The hand around his back slides up to the back of his head, fingernails scratching his scalp tenderly.

“Sleep.” Comes Bond’s mumbled command.

Q gives up, he can’t pretend anymore. Not after today’s incident. He tells himself that he only wants to reassure himself that Bond is alright. He sighs and lowers himself into Bond’s arms and curls his body against him. His hand is still resting on Bond’s chest - and as if Bond can read his mind, an answering hand comes up to clasp around his.

\----------

**Day 5 - Monday (Return)**

Something shifted between them that night. Something monumental, just under the surface.

After arriving back at HQ, Bond hung around Q-Branch longer than necessary and then surprising him by suggesting dinner - ostensibly to thank Q for the thoroughly enjoyable few days. Which was true. Bond did enjoy himself immensely and he felt more socially connected than he’d been in a while. 

Q agreed as long as Bond gave him a ride to collect his cats from the sitter. Dinner is takeaway Vietnamese they picked up before heading to Q’s flat.

Bond is introduced to the cats. Spot is the old big ginger tabby with impressive jowls, former street brawler turned snuggle monster. Jellicles is the younger athletic tuxedo cat and unrepentant killer of indoor plants.

Dinner turns into a sleepover when Bond is disinclined to leave and Q finds himself reluctant to send him away. Bond makes the tepid excuse that he’s tired from the long drive earlier in the day and Q is more than eager to accept it.

—

**2:00 am**

It’s pouring outside and cold. Q wakes up to use the bathroom. He is alone in the bedroom, neither of his cats are to be found which is strange as weather like this usually has them snuggling in bed with him.

He pads out to the living area to check that they haven’t gotten into mischief. That is when he finds the strange tableau waiting for him in the home office where Bond is sleeping on the pullout sofa.

Jellicles is curled on Bond’s stomach purring away. Spot is between his legs, stretched luxuriously on his back, chunky belly fully exposed. The man himself is asleep, seemingly dead to the world. He had changed earlier, into the largest sweatpants and t-shirt Q could find in his wardrobe.

 _The little traitors!_ Nevermind that Q provided them with the best premium catfood, comprehensive health insurance, a two hundred pound designer cat tree and plenty of love and attention.

Then he remembers how warm Bond runs, and he can’t blame them.

He is about to return to his room, but thinks twice - it is cold and who is he kidding; he wanted Bond to stay precisely because he wanted to do what his cats are doing at the moment. Why bother with the pretence if he’s not going to reap the rewards.

Q shuffles over to sit on the edge of the pullout. Bond stirs, one blue eye open, ”Cold?… Plenty of room.” His hand sneaks out from under the covers to run down Q’s back.

Invitation received, Q slides in and curls around his prize, careful not to jostle the cats.

When Q is snugly tucked in, Bond whispers into his hair, “What took you so long?” Q doesn’t deign to answer him.

———------

 **DEF CON Las Vegas, NV -** **Week later**

Las Vegas is every bit as gaudy as Bond expected. The sun is a welcome change but the temperature is stifling. It is bewildering why anyone would have a conference in Vegas during the hottest time of the year. But maybe its because everyone will be more inclined to stay indoors in the cool air-conditioning.

Bond is here at DEF CON with SIS IT-Branch Head of Department Timothy Hayden and his Second, Mark Trent. Hayden he knows by reputation and a handful of joint meetings in the offices of MI6. He doesn’t have much of an opinion about the man other than he’s not the most pleasant boss to work for.

Mark Trent IT tech boffin - he knows better. Mark is a frequent visitor to Q-Branch so much so that the first time Bond met him, he thought he was one of Q’s minions. The two boffins got along spectacularly, complimenting each other in their different coding skillsets. Bond would be jealous of their relationship (not that he would admit it) had he not learned that a) Mark was straight and b) the rapport he had with Q was more along the lines of siblings.

He spent a couple of hours walking around the exhibition with Mark as a guide to the hacker community. Mark is competent technically; but working under Hayden for so long has impacted his confidence. He lacks the gravitas and self-importance Hayden projects. Pity really.

DEF CON is fascinating, crawling with all manner of people with different motivations. His travel companions are here to check out the latest software and hardware hacks and possible security loopholes.

007 like the other undercover federal agents he’s spotted, is here to checkout the _people_ checking out the hacks. It is the perfect place to engage in talent recruitment (willing or otherwise) for organisations -including those with more nefarious objectives. MI6 has a list of persons of interest they want checked out.

He has already been in Vegas three days before the conference, working through his list. His cover as a journalist lets him slip in and out and speak to anyone he chooses without attracting too much suspicion.

So far, there has been nothing too strenuous except for the dry heat and less than stellar accommodations, which he blames for his poor sleep. All the hotels have been booked out for conference, so all they could get him was a motel a little further out of the main strip.

Q’s pullout sofa was more comfortable than the cursed motel bed. And he should know, he’d been sleeping on the thing every other night right up to when he had to leave for Vegas.

Bond is sure it has absolutely nothing to do with the bed smelling strange or being far too empty.

—-

Its afternoon of the second day of the conference and 007 has absconded to a golf club to follow an unofficial addition to the target list - appended by the agent himself of course. His target is lunching with a group of other men in the clubhouse, drinking and smoking cigars, dreadfully stereotypical.

Bond is bored and takes the opportunity to check in with HQ despite the late hour in London. After he’s done filling Ops in, he asks them to put him through to Q-Branch on the pretence that he needed clarification about a technical query.

He’s been engaging in a spot of light bickering with Q for the last fifteen minutes about everything and nothing really - just to keep him on the line.

Bond can’t remember how they arrived at this topic, but Q suddenly feels the need to warn him, “Bond, far be it for me to lecture you when it comes to this - but I’d strongly caution against engaging in personal recreational activities at the conference.”

Interesting. ”Oh?”

“Everyone in attendance, even the press will be an infosec expert. It only takes a moment of inattention and they’d be able to compromise your electronics. You know better than anyone.”

“Are you looking out for me Q?” he can’t help but smile.

“Only for the security of the agency….,” he replies nonchalant. Then a little more concerned, ”Bond, I know you think you’re above all of it. But there are people there whose entire repertoire happens to be honeypot traps.”

“And here I thought you cared,” he can’t help it.

Then he lets Q in on what he didn’t tell Ops, ”Does that advice apply to HODs as well? Because I think Hayden missed the memo.”

“What??” Ah, there it is - the posh perfectly enunciated astonishment. 

“Hayden has missed two days of conference so far. He’s done exactly one circuit of the exhibition and then buggered off to a clubhouse to meet his corporate CIO friends for drinks. And last night he had a very expensive dinner appointment with a very suspicious lady friend that lasted til this morning—…”

The lady friend in question happens to have links to a person of interest on MI6’s list; he had Ops run a trace earlier in the call without telling them why yet.

“—007, are you _spying_ on Timothy Hayden?”

 _-Of course I am-_. “Perhaps we just happen to like the same restaurants….”

“Bond, if what you’re saying is true, it’s a possible security breach. He could be putting MI6 at risk.”

“Hmm… I doubt he cares. He’s been discussing early retirement plans with his corporate friends all afternoon. A lucrative career in private looks to be in the works for him…” from his position, 007 sees Hayden get up to greet his female friend who’d just arrived and the two take their leave of the lunch party.

“… I’m going to follow him around bit more.” he tells Q as he flags down the bartender to settle his tab.

“Oh, Hayden will love that!”

Then just for good measure, Q declares, “Just for the record, this divergence from the official investigation is entirely at the field agent’s discretion based upon prior observation of the subject’s activities and threat level assessment.”

Bond has to laugh at that. “Covering your back quartermaster?”

“I’m already up shit creek where Hayden is is concerned. No need to give him another reason.”

There is a backstory to this Bond is sure. ”Q, why aren’t you at this conference? Thought this would be right up your alley.”

Q sighs wistfully. He really did want to be at DEF CON.

“Some years ago, I embarrassed Hayden in an internal review meeting. M and the board sided with me and he took offence ever since. This year, he requested I withdraw my attendance and transfer the budget to him. I agreed as a peace offering; and also because he would have taken Mark’s allocation if I didn’t.”

Office politics. Bond would rather get shot at.

———————

**SIS Headquarters - Q-Branch, Lower Ground Level 1.**

** Post Mission **

Bond walks into Q-Branch into an unfamiliar scene. The air is suffused with tension. He can hear an angry voice carrying all the way from the back of the shop floor where Q’s unofficial office is tucked away. It is not really an office, just a recessed area where there is a little more privacy and where Q can work on his projects in relative quiet.

He recognises the voice; Timothy Hayden IT-Branch Head of Department. Bond has just spent an hour with him in M’s office while he was given a dressing down about the security breach as a result of his affair. Turns out, his mistress was a freelance agent using the affair to gain access to his phone and laptop. IT Forensics is still trying to determine the purpose.

When he gets near enough to make out what is being said, he halts his progress to listen. He can see them, Hayden standing on the other side of Q’s desk. Q is also on his feet behind his desk trying to reason with the man, his usual mild-mannered voice infused with controlled anger.

Out of seemingly nowhere, R & Nish sidle up to Bond to the left and right. R updates him, “Hayden has been having a go at the Quartermaster for the last 10 minutes and it sounds worse than usual.”

This piques Bond’s interest. “Usual? How often does this happen?”

Nish shakes his head sagely, “Every few months or so for the last few years. He’ll come down and give Q an earful especially after the joint IT security meetings.”

R explains, “He doesn’t like it when Q-Branch lists out the latest security flaws in SIS systems, he takes it quite personally. We’ve told him every time, it’s not personal. The whole point of the joint meetings is to discuss the possible exploits and patch the system before they can be used against us.”

“Has that got something to do with the CyberWar nights every first Friday?” He’s been to Q-Branch every Fridays when he is in London hoping to get Q to come out for dinner with him. Q sometimes have to pass due to the war games. Bond would stay anyway, just to watch.

“Yes. The joint games are meant to challenge the system. Cybersecurity is evolving so fast, we can’t afford to sit still. Challenging the system makes it more robust and keeps everyone up to date.”

“Mark and the rest of IT-Branch understand this and we all have some fun out of it. But their boss doesn’t see it that way. Hayden thinks Q is trying to usurp him and bring IT-Branch under Q-Branch.”

“So he comes down every so often to put the Quartermaster back in his place.“

“Does the Quartermaster ever say anything?” Bond is curious. He’s hardly in London for long enough stretches to be embroiled in office politics.

“Q is diplomatic as ever. He doesn’t want to make it anymore of a fuss. As long as the system gets patched and Hayden doesn’t give Mark hard time about it, Q considers it a win.”

But this time, it is not about the joint security meeting. Bond knows exactly what this is about having just come from the same meeting.

Just then, an awful clattering noise comes from the corner accompanied by the sharp sound of breaking porcelain, the concrete walls and ceilings make the sound ring out dramatically.

Bond had watched Hayden work himself up from angry to incensed. To punctuate his emotion, Hayden then proceeded to sweep the stack of books, files and papers sitting on the left side of the Quartermaster’s desk to the floor - taking with it Q’s tea mug.

The beloved Scrabble mug, the crown jewel of Q-Branch, the symbolic representation of the Quartermaster’s position and power - originally belonged to the previous quartermaster and was ceremonially presented to him by the minions when Q succeeded the position. The mug now lies in pieces scattered across the concrete floor in an impressive shockwave pattern.

A collective gasp emanates from around Bond; even he can’t suppress a wince. He turns around, surprised to see the rest of Q-Branch huddled together behind him. He takes in their frozen horrified expressions. Nish looking up at him pleading. R’s eyes are full of concern.

Hayden continues to bellow, “How dare you send 007 to spy on me! That was a complete breach of protocol—…”

Bond has heard enough. Hayden’s bullying touched a nerve in him. His smouldering dislike for the man flaring into outright contempt, fuelled in no small part by the protectiveness he felt for Q and by that extension the Q-Branch minions in general.

He can’t believe the sanctimonious bastard has the cheek to lecture Q on protocol, this after he’s been caught cheating on his wife and causing a security breach in the process.

Bond saunters towards the two men, calling out to Hayden as he does. “Hayden! Sir!” loud enough to cut the other man off mid-tirade.

As he nears them, Bond deliberately starts taking off his suit jacket. The holster and weapon he’s carrying revealing itself as the jacket slides off.

“007! What are you doing here?!” Hayden is surprised but imperious, annoyed at the interruption.

“I heard myself being referred to in the conversation? Thought I might be able to assist? …Perhaps clear the air?“ as Bond speaks, he moves to drape his jacket across the back of the guest chair where Hayden was standing behind - pushing into Hayden’s personal space in the process.

Hayden is forced to move a step back.

Then Bond proceeds to unbutton his cuffs and roll up his sleeves, advancing slowly as he does, “You know, if anyone has a problem with how I run my missions in the field, perhaps it would be best if they took it up with M or with me personally.”

He smiles pleasantly. “Well conveniently, I’m here…” he then throws his hands up in a show of nonchalance - the muscles in his arms and shoulder showing subtly as his shirt stretches across them with the movement. He finishes with his hands in his pockets, feet just the right distance apart, facing Hayden - effectively pushing the man away with his presence.

Bond’s _spectacular_ display of alpha-male posturing has its intended subconscious effect on Hayden who doesn’t quite understand how is it he’s taken so many steps backwards that he’s bumped his back against a worktable at the opposite side of the space. The metal legs scrape noisily against the concrete floor and a microscope on the table vibrates. 

“Or if you’d prefer privacy, we can take our leave of the the Quartermaster and take this to your office… Sir?” Bond suggests magnanimously.

Hayden, unused to the brand of subtle threatening presence a double-0 can project is flustered; and senses retreat would be the best course of action. He tells Bond to, “Fuck off 007.” before turning and storming out of Q-Branch.

His parting gift on his way out was to kick and upend a chair near where the minions have huddled together, startling them. 

As soon as the main doors swish close, everyone heaves a sigh of relief and return to their duties. R mouths a silent ‘thank you’ from her station. Nish throws him a ‘rock on’ hand sign that Bond takes as positive encouragement.

Q makes a disgusted sound and drops himself into his chair nosily. He removes his glasses and scrubs a hand over his face.“Told you Hayden hated my guts… and thank you. For a moment I thought I was going to end up with a bloody nose.”

“He’s a bureaucrat and a bully.” Bond shares his observation of the man. “Q, have you ever thought of making an official complaint?” Bond turns around. He sees the broken mug and proceeds to pick up the pieces.

“What would be the point? He’s just going to make it difficult for everyone and he might put a stop to CyberWar night. It’s only useful if we have IT’s cooperation to fix the system— ” When Q sees what Bond is doing, “—Oh, you don’t have to do that. I’ll clean that up.”

Q moves out from behind his desk and starts to pick up the files and papers from the floor to stack them back on top of his desk. Bond deposits the remains of the mug into the nearest sharps bin, stealing glances at Q the whole time. The quartermaster looks tired, more than usual - without his glasses, Bond can clearly see the dark circles that ring his undereyes and the pinched expression that accompanies a headache.

“Headache?” Bond asks as he moves around to sit on the edge of the desk right by Q’s elbow.

“Mmm…”Q acknowledges. He’d finished stacking the papers and returned to his chair. 

“Q, have you been sleeping well lately?” It’s a loaded question.

Q appears not to notice, “Mmm? Not really. The cats have been restless lately—,” then he adds,”—I think they might miss you.”

They lock eyes; and Bond believes he’s got his answer, “Well then, maybe I should come by tonight…” he leans in close, “...To say hello.”

Q considers, “Only if you bring Thai. And make sure you get those fried omelette things…” Q makes to return to his laptop but his hands pause over the keyboard.

He takes a moment to decide then reaches for his bag under the desk. He pulls out a small flat round token with a key ring on one end, and holds it out to a surprised Bond who then accepts it reverently. Bond has seen Q use a similar one to enter his flat.

“You’ll need to use it in combination with your service number. Come by when you’re ready... and bring a spare change of clothes.” Q instructs in the same tone that he would use if Bond was in the field. Though he makes it a point not to look at the agent as he says it.

Bond for his part intends to follow this set of instructions to the letter.

————————

 **Quartermaster’s Residence**

There’s a large wet spot and splash marks all over the front of Q’s clothes when he appears from the bathroom to greet Bond who had just let himself in.

Q’s expression is grim when he tells him, “I’ll be with you in a few minutes. You know where everything is.”

He then retreats to the bathroom, and the sound of a hair dryer fires up. A moment later a wet tuxedo cat bolts out of the same bathroom, followed by a vehement curse, “Shit!”

Jelicles joins Spot near the heater in the living room, giving himself a good shake before rolling on the floor to dry off. Q comes out to check - one look and he figures its a lost cause and tosses a fluffy dry towel in their direction for them to roll on.

Q then returns to the bedroom to change out of his wet clothes. Bond watches all this with a smile while unpacking their dinner. The mundane domesticity endearing to someone like him who spends most of his downtime alone.

His voice carries from the bedroom, “Sorry about that! They decided to get into the bins today.”

“It’s the third time this week. I don’t understand their fascination with it.” Q's voice growing louder as he makes his way back to the kitchen.

“You’d think with all the resources at my disposal, I’d be able to come up with something that takes them longer than a day to figure out.” Q comes to stand next to him. “Ohh! That smells good.”

They spend their dinner discussing about different ways to cat proof the bins, each one more over engineered than the other.

——————————

**Post dinner**

“Are we ever going to talk about this?” Bond asks a full five minutes after they start snogging on the sofa. _-What? Now?-_ Q’s higher cognitive functions checked out four minutes ago.

But Bond wanting to _talk_ says enough about his mental state.

“I’m afraid if we do, we’ll jinx it.” Q says breathless, what with Bond mouthing his neck like the mango sticky rice wasn’t enough to satisfy his dessert cravings. _Fuck_ , his hands are _everywhere_.

“Hmm... I see your point.But it’s getting impossible to get a decent nights’ sleep—…“ - _without you-,_ remained unsaid. “—so I’m afraid I’m going to have to press you on the matter.”

 _God!_ If the man wanted a conversation, maybe he should stop sucking on Q’s bottom lip, “Bond—..”

“—You should probably call me James by now.” _James_ runs the tip of his nose across the high point of Q’s cheekbones.

“James, you want to have this conversation... right _now_?” Q’s voice sounds whiny even to him. Being a genius doesn’t automatically make him good at multitasking.

James huffs a laugh into the shell of his ear and croons, “Yes. Now.” He pulls back far enough for Q to see that he’s serious.

Q takes a moment to regroup before tentatively asking, “D...do you want to put a label on this? I thought you’d be the last person to want that.”

The look on James’s face is - pensive. And somewhat guilty, like he’s caught wanting something he shouldn’t. But his thumbs have not stopped their gentle caress where his hands rest around Q’s rib cage. This is Bond ‘communicating’.

- _Christ, he’s serious_ \- Q chews on his bottom lip contemplating. “Are we... dating?” He hazards a guess, though the terminology feels somewhat inadequate.

James narrows his eyes, “I think we’re past that.”

“Are we?” Q teases, “I feel short changed. Where was the wooing? Social conventions tell me that there should have been gifts and romantic dinners and heartfelt proclamations of devotion.....” he trails off, something in his mind clicking into place.

Their odd relationship this past year. The bizarre little gestures. The teas. The biscuits. The occasional self satisfied jaunt into Q-Branch to drop off bits of enemy tech. The coincidental late evening invitations to dinner when they’re both working late.

“Oh my God! That was your wooing?” Q shouldn’t be one to judge. He wasn’t any better at it.

There were the snarky little notes he left in Bond’s kit for the agent to find. The extra meals Q made sure to book for 007’s flights because the agent gets cranky when hungry. The protein bars he stocked in his second desk drawer because he knew it was Bond’s favourite.

The same drawer that 007 had since commandeered as his own - filled with personal items like cuff links, sunglasses, spare car keys, his employee ID badge and a company lanyard he refuses to wear. If that wasn’t Bond subtlety staking his claim he doesn’t know what it is.

James squeezes his rib cage just shy of too tight to prod Q along. “Alright! If we’re past dating, what’s next?”

“Why don’t you look up your copy of Gentleman’s Guide to Vice and Virtue?” James suggests playfully.

“Well… if you wouldn’t mind circling back to this conversation at a later date, you can have my virtue.” Q tries to derail the conversation by pulling James back in for a kiss.

James lets Q kiss him, but refrains from actively participating. His hands still gently squeezing Q’s ribs a sign he’s not upset - but genuinely wants to finish the conversation. He’s not above holding both their libidos hostage to accomplish it.

“Jaa-mes...” Q is petulant. _This man is insufferable!_

Time to get this over with. Q straightens himself on the sofa. James hands him his glasses before he even asks for them. 

Q shakes his head to reboot his frontal cortex. “So we’re past the dates, and the occasional sleepovers...” He checks James’s expression to see if he’s on the right track - yes he is.

“Do you… want to spend more time together?”

“Yess...” James grinds out, his patience wearing thin.

“And you’ve indicated your difficulty falling asleep without my presence - a predicament I share. However, we both lead very busy work lives, with extended and often unpredictable hours which isn’t conducive to achieving the objective. Therefore logic dictates that we should make the most of the time that _is_ available—“

“—Get to the point.” Another hard squeeze around the ribs.

“Ah!” Q fails to suppress the yelp. “Very well! I’ve bloody given you the key already...” time to end the charade. “Would you... like to perhaps share living arrangements for the foreseeable future?”

Bond takes in a deep breath and squares his shoulders, a slow but brilliant smile spreading across his face. He leans in close and pushes Q back down into the sofa - nipping at his mouth all the way before he replies:-

“If you insist.”

\----- The End-----


End file.
